I knew a dead man
by Jesseh The Sexeh
Summary: This is a one-shot I wrote as part of an English assignment. It's how I would've seen the thirteenth chapter going had it been about Dally's funeral. WARNING: Sad Cherry missing Dallas scenes.


**Chapter 13:**

The next week was Dally's funeral. We'd all wanted to bury Dallas and Johnny

together, so they were in the same plot. Unfortunately though, the Cade's were blood-relatives

so they decided to bury Johnny in a state cemetery. It was sad really, how they hadn't even

cared enough to ask for Johnny's name to be put on the cross. It was like he had never existed,

and now he was just another number.

Darry'd been pretty stony-faced throughout the whole ordeal, until the funeral director

asked who'd be paying for the service. It choked him up that we were all Dallas had, but more

so that he had to bury someone else he cared about. I wondered if Dallas' father would have

paid had he known his son was dead. Probably not, but Dallas knew he didn't give a hang and

despite being a hood he had a pretty good idea of what people thought of him.

We were all getting cleaned up for the wake when the doorbell chimed, and I couldn't

help thinking this felt like when we were preparing for the rumble. _Don't think about the _

_rumble, _I thought _Don't think about the last time you saw Dallas and Johnny. _I found I'd

gotten to the point where I could think about Johnny and not hear that nagging voice in my

head saying **'You could've done something for him'** because we understood each other, but

when I thought about Dallas I got this sick feeling. Dallas and I weren't real close so I really

had to think about who the real Dallas was, and I wished someone would tell me. All I knew

was that Dallas had needed my help the night Johnny died just as badly as we'd needed his the

night Johnny killed Bob. Dallas had been our protector when it counted, but if Johnny and I

couldn't protect him who could? Who was his Dallas?

With a grunt and a hop, Two-Bit made his way to the door betraying his lazy

inclinations. I poked my head out of the doorway to catch an eyeful of a gloomy Cherry

Valance. I was rather surprised she'd come to this funeral after she'd opted not to go to

Johnny's wake.

"Hi Cherry. How are you?" I asked a little too chipperly, instantly realizing I shouldn't have

asked.

I looked around the now dead silent room, half-expecting Darry to tell me to go to my

room. But I slowly came into the realization that every eye in the house was fixed on Cherry.

She was as beautiful as ever in her grey linen dress, but it was a different type of beauty. Now

it was more of a sad and brooding beauty. Her despair seemed to envelop all of us as it

lingered, looming above her crown of fiery curls.

"I suppose we'd better get going. I paid good money-" Darry stopped himself, "For a good

buddies funeral."

I had to tune Darry out then and there or I knew I would blow up on him, and I wasn't

planning on breaking my promise to Soda anytime soon. I began to focus my attention on

Cherry, and suddenly it hit me. Cherry Valance, the cheerleader Soc, looked just like a war

bride promised to a fellow who she knew would never come home. I shook my head and

shrugged on a blazer, walking in a wobbly line towards the open door, with the rest of the

sullen gang in tow. Everyone was trying to stay quiet for fear of upsetting someone else but as

we shuffled down the gravel road, Cherry and I couldn't seem to keep quiet.

"I suppose...I suppose I'm a liar, huh Ponyboy?" Cherry asked, giving me a side-long glance.

"A liar? What do you mean by that?" I questioned, puzzled by her statement.

"I told you that night we met that if I saw Dallas a second time, I'd fall in love with him. I

lied."

I started to open my mouth to ask why she'd lie about loving Dallas but she cut me off.

"I didn't need to see Dallas a second time. I loved him from the start, I loved him despite

myself."

"I thought you were in love with Bob," I trailed, pushing the heavy oaken door of the chapel

open for Cherry.

"All I said about, Bob, Ponyboy was that he was better than the crowd. Dallas Winston was not

part of that crowd and I sure didn't say that Bob was better than Dallas!" Cherry snapped.

With that she pushed past me and made a bee-line straight for Dallas' coffin. I was

rather worried about letting Cherry see him after the mortician had fought us on having an

open casket. It didn't seem right not to give him the good-bye he deserved, because he'd

earned the right to be seen before we planted him in the cold, lonely earth.

"Oh my. Why didn't they cover that hole up? It's right between his eyes. My poor Dallas."

Cherry gasped, turning away as if to be sick.

I side-stepped a few skewed chairs in the aisle to make my way towards Cherry, hand

over mouth, masking the pale skin behind it. Her hand was gripping a strangely farmiliar

silver chain, and she was letting it hang by her side.

"What do you have there?" I asked, reaching out to ease the coffin shut.

"Don't talk to me like some little girl!" Cherry sobbed, hammering her fist into my chest. She

was rather strong for a girl so I stumbled backwards, letting the coffin lid snap back open.

"It's Dallas' San Antonio...he gave it to me when I visited him in the hospital," she said softly,

regaining her composure.

San Antonio was the patron saint of lost causes. I suppose that's what Dallas thought

of himself. It didn't make much sense that he'd leave Cherry his pendant though, he mostly

used it to strike matches. As if reading my thoughts, Cherry piped up suddenly.

"He told me that he didn't have much in the world besides me, Johnny and his San Antonio.

And since he couldn't give me Johnny, he'd give me the only other things he had: himself and

the San Antonio."

"I doubt there was much more left of Dallas to give you, Cherry," Steve sighed, the dark

circles under his eyes apparent.

I nodded in agreement and let my eyes wander to Dallas' lifeless corpse. He was so

pale and still in the rough pine box, his entire forehead disfigured by the impact of the bullet.

My vision blurred over with tears and I had to wipe furiously at my eyes to see straight. It

wasn't how Dallas' forehead looked that upset me, it was the fact that he looked so alone,

tucked in a casket all by himself. If Dallas had lived the scar would've been permanent, but in

a way Dallas never really died. Dallas had burnt himself into our memories with every

reckless moment and desperate act. Dallas was the equivalent of a human stain, and that was

why everyone in the room would be kept up thinking about him for a long time. We greasers

were the survivors of a bad lifestyle and as long as we were greasers we'd keep meeting

Dallas after Dallas, and we'd keep losing them just as we began to understand them.

"Nothing is ever going to be the same without Dallas," Soda stated, sliding an arm around

Cherry.

"Jesus." a nasally voice from behind me whispered, catching everyone's attention.

Surprisingly enough, it was Tim Shepard, decked out in his Sunday best. I knew him

and Dallas had been buddies to a point, but I didn't think Tim cared much about anyone but

Tim. I tried to keep from pointing as tears sprung to Shepard's eyes, and the illusion of him

being some tough hood had disappeared.

"He always said he was headed for a hole in his head," Tim laughed grimly "And now he's

gone. Those officers though, I've made sure they paid. No one puts one of my boys out of

commission."

As Tim's expression hardened Darry adopted a look of utter fear. "What do you mean

by that Shepard...don't you go and do something stupid, you hear?"

"They brought it on themselves. Dally was just a kid! He never had a chance. Anyway Curtis

you're too late, it's already done and over with. I just came to give you something Cherry

before I hit the road...I'm not keen on riding the lightning for being a cop killer." Tim

coughed, yanking a crumpled up soft-drink cup out of his pocket.

Cherry received it gently before flinging her arms around Tim's neck. I didn't

understand why she hugged him, but I was almost certain of what the cup symbolized for

Cherry- she'd thrown it at Dallas when we were hanging out at the Nightly Double. For a

hoodlum, Dally sure was sentimental.

"He said if you ever needed him he'd be right down at the bottom where he always was." Tim

shrugged, turning to flee the building.

"You're a good boy Tim Shepard. If you get away from here and beat this legal problem you

have I want you to promise me you'll settle down. Stop being a good boy and start being a

good man!" Cherry demanded, her voice catching.

Tim stopped a little short of the door to turn to Cherry and say "I'll try my best."

"Trying isn't good enough! Promise me! Promise me you won't die like Dally did!" Cherry

yelled at him, turning red in the face.

But Tim didn't stay to listen to Cherry, instead he just ran away from the funeral

home, from Cherry, but most of all from the cold, hard reality. Just as Cherry began to unfold

the base of the paper cup the pastor jogged in with the new testament tucked under his arm.

No one cared though, because we were all too shocked by the fact that Tim Shepard had

killed a cop.

"I'm so sorry I'm late. I had a family thing and it took longer than expected," the pastor

apologized, wiping his brow, "Please accept my apologies Mrs. Winston."

I opened my mouth to correct him, but turning to Cherry I noticed a blissful smile

grace her face once more. She'd have married Dallas if he'd asked her, and I didn't want to

upset her by reminding her they never would get married. I didn't want to remind myself they

wouldn't.

"If you wouldn't mind sir, I wrote out the psalm I'd like you to read," Cherry nodded, passing

him an over-folded piece of full-scap.

"Blessed be those who mourn for they shall be comforted." I stared at Cherry as he recited the

first verse. Who would comfort her after she left us greasers? Who in her world of madras

and aloofness would understand her being in love with a dead hoodlum?

"Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled." The

second verse hit me hard as it reminded me of Tim Shepard and his nervous disposition after

settling the score with the police. Was Tom filled? No, he was running on empty, he always

had been.

"Ye are the salt of the earth. Judge not and ye be not judged, for with what judgment ye

judge, ye shall be judged." As the pastor finished I glanced at Dally once more. He'd never

passed judgment on anyone else, not even when Johnny and I killed that Soc. I wonder if

Johnny would be judged for killing Bob. Probably, and all I could do was hope whoever

judged him took into consideration it was my fault too. If I hadn't tried to get Johnny to run

away with me, him and Bob may have both lived.

I snapped back to reality when Darry started to help the mortician wheel the casket to

the hearse.

"Dally sure was proud of Johnny," I choked out, fully aware it sounded out of place.

"Dally's pride was his undoing," Two-Bit whimpered, hand pulling his jacket closer to his

neck.

Cherry shook her head, sending a few auburn curls flying into her face. "The Dallas

you knew was all smoke and mirrors. What you don't realize about him is that pride covered a

multitude of sins and shame. He wasn't bad at all. He was a soldier and he died like one."

I scampered from Cherry and Two-Bit to get some air and weed. Lighting up a

cigarette, I rocked back and forth, trying to handle the sudden realization. Dallas was different

things to different people. To me he was desperate. To Darry and the rest of the gang he was

alone. To Johnny he was gallant. But to Cherry Valance, Dallas Winston was a soldier. But

we'd never know who Dallas was to the person closest to Dallas- himself.

I tottered towards the vast field across the way and leaned on the fence, welcoming the

support as the knot in my throat grew. I'd never asked Dallas anything about himself, I'd never

tried to include or understand him. Why was I so indifferent when it came to Dally? Once I

felt well enough to mozy over to the grave-site I walked out to meet Cherry.

"Come on, it's time to go," I coaxed.

Wiping away the last of some stray tears from my cheeks, I shuffled to the funeral

parlor door to take Cherry's arm. I wanted her to have some stability. She clung to me tightly

bawling all the while, still holding that darn paper cup.

"Why're you keeping that paper cup?" I asked, my voice faltering.

"He wrote something in it for me. Told me that he loved me on the bottom of a cup I threw at

him!" She weeped, pushing forwards.

She tugged on my blazer and halted handing me the cup and fingering the base.

_'Cherry I love you. And you know they say there's no cure for love except more love. Tell _

_Pony I was wrong about getting tough, it'll just mess him up like it did me. Forgive me if I _

_hurt you...I'm prone to doing that to people.'_

"Your regular Bob Dillon huh?" I asked tearfully, holding Cherry's hand loosely.

"I'll never love another boy, Pony," She quavered.

"Maybe it's best that way," I whispered, calming her enough to stumble forward.

We both stopped at the heaping mound of soil oil next to the open grave, staring

solemnly at the gaping hole in the lush, green grass. I didn't say anything but I could sense

that she thought the same thing I did. The huge black space in the ground was like the scar

between Dally's eyes. It could be filled in, but everyone would still know it's there so it would

never really go away.

"Do you think Dally would've been a good husband...a good father?" Cherry asked, chewing

her nail.

"Oh no Cherry, not you and Sandy both!" I groaned, looking at her as if she'd jabbed me with

a red hot poker.

"It's nothing like that Ponyboy," she explained, flushing, " I was just curious, because now I'll

never know. I think he would've been if we'd had a little girl. I think if we'd had a boy he'd try

to put up a tough front for him."

I nodded, starting to drift into a daydream in which Dally was holding a baby. I

wonder if Dallas ever held a baby. Once Cherry's American dream fleeted, it was just the two

of us, standing there on the brink.

"Ponyboy, he loved me unconditionally and he made me feel safe. He was the only person

who really gave a hang about me. How can you ever tell someone how much that means?"

Cherry sighed, wiping her tears away forcefully.

"By loving him back," I whispered hoarsely. "By loving him back."


End file.
